


let your walls down

by OnyxSphinx



Series: newmann one-shots [136]
Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: M/M, gods. these idiots., hermann's such a repressed fucker and he needs to take down those walls sometimes, i yeet myself out a window, the fic: emotional, the prompt: cracky, which he does
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-18
Updated: 2020-01-18
Packaged: 2021-02-27 14:02:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22308361
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OnyxSphinx/pseuds/OnyxSphinx
Summary: In which Newt proposes a vacation, falls asleep on Hermann, and Hermann realises that he can finally let his defences down
Relationships: Newton Geiszler/Hermann Gottlieb
Series: newmann one-shots [136]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1286762
Comments: 4
Kudos: 45





	let your walls down

**Author's Note:**

> anon asked: "Prompt D: “What’s wrong with Florida?” + “Too many oranges,” said Newt. “I hope the bastards drown in oranges.”"

“Let’s go on vacation,” Newton says; his upper lip bloodied and his iris, too; his jacket ripped and beviscerad, and it’s getting onto Hermann a bit to, given that he’s pressed to Hermann’s side. His breath whispers over the skin of Hermann’s neck; he’s laid his head on Hermann’s shoulder, and Hermann has let him.

Hermann makes a wordless noise—he’s so damn _tired,_ he can’t summon up the energy to force his mouth to move—and shifts his shoulder slightly so that Newton can more comfortably lean against him. “Vacation,” Newton says again; and it strikes Hermann, suddenly, that, sitting here, on his bed, this—is strangely _intimate._

He licks his lips. “Where?” he croaks, finally, and he raises a tired hand to rub at his own eye.

“Mm,” says Newton, and leaves it at that. It takes a few moments for Hermann to realise that he’s fallen asleep on Hermann, and then he sighs, and gently, as well as he can manage, moves the biologist so he’s laying down on the bed instead of uncomfortably half-sprawled against Hermann.

Newton makes a quiet little sound—unintentional, Hermann’s sure—, and shifts slightly; grasping at Hermann in his sleep. “Newton,” Hermann murmur, meaning to pry his fingers away gently, but he stops. There’s no need for this, now; never has been, if he’s telling the truth. The distance between them has been something he’s enforced out of fear of the closeness that is the alternative, but it’s not something he’s ever been _fond_ of.

So he lets the hand stay, at least as long as he can, and then changes into clean night-clothes and that means he has to remove Newton’s hand, but he holds it with a free one of his own as he does.

Then, when he’s done, he takes another look at him; and smiles. Newton is—well. He’s a sight for sore eyes, even bloodied and dirtied.

Hermann gets into the bed beside him, and allows himself to just—be. To breathe. His eyes slip closed with the image of Newton Geiszler’s silent, soft face on the pillow beside him.

* * *

When Hermann awakes, it’s quiet; gentle. The curtains have been left open, part-way, so the sunlight throws long, thin slivers of light onto them. His eyes open slowly, and the soft of Newton’s face fills his vision. They’re closer together, and Newton’s wearing a change of clothes, so Hermann assumes that he must have gotten up, changed, and then laid back down.

The thought warms him, and it takes him a few moments to realise Newton’s eyes haven’t shifted from his face. “Have you been staring at me?” he asks, voice sleep-roughed, and the corners of Newton’s eyes crinkle.

“Can you blame me?” he murmurs, “you’re beautiful when you’re relaxed.”

Hermann’d flush if he were more awake, but as is, he’s just pleasantly floating. Happy. “Shushhhh,” he says, yawning at the end, and shifts closer so that he’s pressed against Newton.

“Mm,” Newton murmurs, and Hermann’s fairly sure he’s smiling. “Dude, let’s go on vacation. Together.”

“You said that last night, too,” Hermann points out. “And you _still_ haven’t explained it. What would we even _do?_ ”

Newton shrugs; a soft, fluid motion, oddly familiar, and he says, “We deserve a break, y'know. I’d like to see my folks again if you’re up for it—I think Uncle Illia and Dad’ll both like you. Plus, they’ve been bugging me to bring you over for like, ever, since, uh, we started writing…” he trails off.

Hermann half-chokes on spit in surprise. “I—well,” he sputters, and hides his blushing face in the pillow. Newton laughs. “Not Florida, though,” he says, once he stops.

“What’s wrong with _Florida?_ ” Hermann asks, and turns his head to peer at Newton.

“Too many oranges,” says Newt. “I hope the bastards drown in oranges.”

It's—funny, the words themselves, but it’s not that that Hermann focuses on; it’s the fact that he’s just thought of him as _Newt_ rather than _Newton_ and it felt quite—quite _right,_ like a puzzle-piece fitting right in place with the rest of the pieces.

He blinks; surprised, and Newton catches sight of it. “What’s up?” he asks, and reaches out, fingers falling to Hermann’s hand.

“I— _thinking,_ ” Hermann manages; and then, because now he’s thought of it, he can’t _unthink_ it and he _has_ to say it, “we’ve known each other so—long.”

“Eleven years,” Newton says, placidly, and his fingers, warm and calloused, twine with Hermann’s. “Yeah.”

“Yes, yes—it’s just—well,” Hermann stammers to a halt, and then starts again. “Well. It’s just—I’ve never thought of you as—as anything but _Newton,_ until. Until now.”

Newton gives a hum; an invitation to continue, and Hermann does. “I—well, I just. Thought of you as— _Newt._ ” And he gives Newton a searching look; imploring, really; because _Newton_ is better at this than he is, would know about this better than he would, but instead of replying, he just smiles; then grins.

“Took you long enough,” he teases, “finally got through your exoskeleton, huh?”

“ _Humans_ can’t have exoskeletons, Newton,” he snaps. “You’re a biologist—you _know_ that.” He tries not to feel hurt.

Newton notices, though, and he says, “Hey, hey, no—I didn’t mean it like that. It's—” he hesitates. “It’s very _sweet,_ ” he says, finally. “I’m… _glad_ we’re close enough for that.”

Hermann relaxes. “Oh,” he says, and then he, too, begins to smile.

There’s a—warmth, between them; maybe the warmth of Newton’s hand in his own, and he suddenly _sees_ it; a thread of courage, and he licks his lips; fairly sure this is true, and fearing it isn’t, and pushing the fear aside to lean in.

“Hermann?” Newton murmurs, eyes wide, when there’s barely a hair’s-breath between them; and it sounds— _anticipatory;_ wondering.

Hermann closes the gap; chastely, and Newton kisses him back; curls into him. When they pull apart, Newton’s grinning. “I _knew_ it,” he crows, quietly.

“Shut up,” Hermann says, but he’s grinning as well.

**Author's Note:**

> you can find me at [autisticharrow](https://autisticharrow.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


End file.
